Boxes

God, sometimes I am as one
trying to go up and down stairs
with huge boxes in my arms
and I can't see my footing, or other people.
I stumble. I drop things. I crash into people.

Help me set aside all my cargo:
emotions and beliefs that push and pull me,
heavy fears that unbalance me,
the way I want things to be, points to make,
how I want to be seen....

Help me set it all down and instead
carry only the song of your love,
and dance, light and lithe,
in your open meadow,

and, quick on my feet,
make way for others
who stagger and stumble…

   —October 25, 2018